Plumdale PI
by Ali B 123
Summary: Mash up of Home Improvement and Magnum P.I.


Tim started the day by going to the man's bathroom. He looked around. Not quite like the Tool Time bathroom, but it did have a central drain and a very large shower with multiple heads. There was no need for a TV as there was one nearby in the living room.

Anyway, he needn't hide out from Jill anymore, as she was living 3,000 miles away. Tim sighed and turned on the shower. The steam rose and he adjusted one of the four shower heads to the upper back. "Now, that's better." He let the water wash away his discontent. He had always been an optimist, a dreamer, quite the opposite of Jill. He realized that now. He was willing to live with those differences, but she wasn't. He sighed again. What he dare not tell anyone was that it was a sigh of relief. He found himself sighing a lot lately.

He briefly toweled off and walked out into the great room that included his kitchen. Wearing only a towel around his waist, he gazed out the large slider, up at the hill above his home. There they were, staring at him. Those beautiful eyes. They were beautiful. Jill had been right about that. Suddenly one appeared on his back patio and approached his back slider.

It was Jimmy. He sported a do on the top of his head reminiscent of a punk star. Tim had taken to spraying a little sun-in on the do. This somehow added to Jimmy's image. And the boys liked it. Jimmy and Tim stood staring at each other. Jimmy somehow had a need to stare at Tim. Of all the pack, Jimmy was the most attached to Tim.

"I see you're wearing the usual uniform of a farmer."

Tim spun around to find Al helping himself to a cup of coffee.

"Not everyone is cut out for flannel," Tim answered. "You could knock, you know."

"I did knock," Al went to the fridge and helped himself to some creamer. "There were some packages on your doorstep. I left them in the front room."

"Some more tools," Tim poured a cup of coffee for himself. "Binford has a new chainsaw."

"I saw that on their sight. You must be one of the first to try it out."

"Binford is very good to me."

"Are you going to clear more of the brush for the boys?" Tim and Al had taken to calling Tim's herd "the boys," even though the majority were of the female persuasion. Supposedly there were fewer fights or disagreements with females. It seemed to work in Tim's herd. They were usually quite friendly with each other.

"Up on the upper left."

"Where the poison oak was?" asked Al.

"Yes, where the poison oak was," Tim shuddered. He remembered how he and Al had battled an area of poison oak the previous summer. They wore special suits that covered them head to toe. And of course, they had chosen one of the hottest days of the year. The sun beat down on them as they cut and pulled the noxious weeds. The sweat streaming down their faces behind a dental shield. They looked a bit like mad scientists at the landfill when they dumped the huge bundles. What a mess. "I'm hoping the boys will keep it from coming back."

Tim's towel shifted and he put his cup down and grabbed the corners of the towel just in time.

"I'd like to stay and talk but I need to change." Tim sprang up the steps, two at a time, holding tight onto the towel.

"I just wanted to tell you about our new neighbor," said Al. But Tim did not hear. He slammed the door to his room in time to cut off Al. "I wanted to tell you who has moved into Plumdale."

Al went to the sink and dumped the remainder of his coffee and put his cup in the dishwasher. He went to the slider and opened it. Jimmy was munching on some grass on the small lawn next to Tim's patio. Tim had no need to mow the lawn with the boys around.

"Goodbye, Jimmy," said Al. "Tell Tim I expect to see him later."

Jimmy looked up with a questioning look, chewing on the grass in his mouth. "People are so silly," he thought, "Al knows I don't speak English."

Tim took the steps up the hill. He opened the gate. The boys were grazing peacefully on the slope ahead. A heavy fog clung to the hill, obscuring the bush at the top. There was a gentle humming. It was one of the things Tim liked most about the alpacas.

He closed the gate to the lower slope and proceeded up the hill. He wanted to look at the area he was about to clear. He wouldn't use the chainsaw alone. He had learned his lesson on that years ago. He would wait for Al and they could try it out together.

There was something foreboding about the upper left part of the hill. He had never quite liked it. One could not easily walk into the area. The bushes were a massive tangle. And some had grown into trees so that even on a sunny day it had dark areas due to shadows.

This morning it was shrouded in fog, adding even more to the mystery. Tim thought he movement up on the hill. He had often wondered if his neighbors on the other side of the hill would trespass when he wasn't around.

There was a rustling in the bushes above him on the hill. Then emerging out of the fog was a figure. A figure of a man. Was he on one of his alpacas? No, they were too small. They couldn't be ridden. Who was it? No, it couldn't be.

There on the top of the hill, was a man on a llama. He wore a baseball cap. Across his chest was a Sam Browne belt containing a pistol and ammunition. But that was not what surprised Tim. It was the face that went with it. The man had a large moustache.

"It can't be," whispered Tim. "It can't be."

The man steered his llama down the hill with skill through the brush. He stopped in front of Tim.

The llama spit on Tim's chest.

"I apologize," said Tom. "He thinks you're on his property."

"Then he's misinformed," said Tim, staring up at the stranger, who seemed to step out of a TV series. "This is my property you're on."

Tom looked down the hill. "You have alpacas. I considered alpacas, but decided to go with a stronger, bigger animal. Something tougher, more manly." He extended his hand and Tim shook it reluctantly. "Tom Magnum. I've just moved into the mansion on the other side of the hill."

"And you expected to meet with roughians?" Tim pointed to the gun.

Tom laughed. "No. Just thought I'd do some practice shooting. But came up over the hill to see the rest of the hill."

"So you're the famous Tom Magnum, is that right?"

"I had my moment of fame and glory. And you are Tim Taylor. Am I correct?"

Tim nodded. "Do you still work as a P.I.?"

"I do a little free lance work," answered Tom. "One can't just stop being who you are." He looked down the hill to Tim's home. "And that's your home? Do you improve it?"

"I do a little work around the house now and then."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Tim," said Tom, turning his llama around. "I've got to be off. Don't be alarmed by any gunshots."

"Just as long as they stay on your side of the hill," answered Tim.

Tom disappeared into the fog, like the hero in a melodrama.

Tim turned around and headed down the hill. He was met by Jimmy at the gate.

"Jimmy, that man is trouble. Mark my words."

Jimmy hummed. Tim believed it was a hum of agreement.


End file.
